


in a bind

by M0stlyVoid



Series: Kinktober 2020 [19]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Breathplay, Choking, Kink Exploration, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming, Risk Aware Consensual Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-19
Updated: 2020-10-19
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:20:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27113213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/M0stlyVoid/pseuds/M0stlyVoid
Summary: Hooking up with Draco was one of the best decisions Harry ever made. Their sexual compatibility was completely off the charts, and Harry couldn't get enough. So what happens when Draco asks for something a little outside of Harry's comfort zone?Spoiler: Harry's pretty into it, too.With conditions.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Series: Kinktober 2020 [19]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1948741
Comments: 38
Kudos: 357





	in a bind

**Author's Note:**

> the october 19 prompt for kinktober 2020 is— _choking_.

Harry and Draco had been hooking up for about a month the first time Draco put Harry’s hand over his mouth when they were fucking.

Draco was on all fours, and Harry had one hand tangled in his long blonde hair, the other running up and down along Draco’s side. He was pulling back gently on Draco’s hair at regular intervals, in rhythm with his long, deep thrusts, and the muscles in Draco’s back were tensing and releasing over and over, a sure sign he was getting closer.

“Fuck, Potter—” he’d choked out, then reached back and grabbed the hand on his hip, tugging it forward and placing it over his mouth and nose.

At first, Harry had thought Draco was going to suck on his fingers—they’d done that before, and it _really_ got Harry going—but Draco’s mouth stayed closed, and Harry could feel his breathing increase frantically as he struggled for air through his nose. Alarmed, Harry had made to move his hand away, but Draco’d pushed it back against his face, and seconds later he’d come all over the bed, completely untouched, which of course triggered Harry’s own orgasm.

Neither of them said anything about it, but a few weeks later, Draco had put Harry on his back and was riding his cock with agonizing slowness, and Harry was squeezing hard enough to bruise on his hips (he didn’t like to think about just how much he liked seeing bruises on that pale skin the next day—Draco was almost translucent, his veins clearly visible in places, and he bruised _so easily,_ and Harry wasn’t sure he should like seeing those marks as much as he did), and Draco had grabbed one of Harry’s hands and placed it over his mouth again, and Harry had kept it there, increasing the pressure just a bit when Draco’s eyes went wild and his movements got jerky, and it had lead to a spectacular orgasm for both of them yet again.

Harry thought about it, after that, but he still didn’t say anything, and it kept happening, and then one day he Flooed over and Draco had hickeys high on his neck from _someone else_ (they weren’t exclusive, that was part of the whole _deal,_ and it had been Harry’s idea besides, but lately he’d been thinking…) and Harry almost whited out in jealous anger, and Draco knew it based on his sly smirk as Harry bent him in half and fucked him into the mattress, and then Draco drew Harry’s hand up, but this time he pressed it gently against his _throat,_ and, well…

After, when they were cooling down, lying in Draco’s too-big bed just a few crucial inches apart, Harry rolled to his side and propped himself on his elbow.

“I think we should talk about a few things,” he started, figuring that a direct approach was best. He eyed Draco’s neck and collarbone with a measure of embarrassed pride—he’d certainly done his best to cover up those _other_ marks with his own teeth and tongue, Draco would need to be in turtlenecks for _weeks_ if he didn’t heal them. At least there wasn’t any room for anybody else to try and put a claim on him, now,

Draco sighed, but rolled to face Harry, stretching and wincing a bit as he did so. “Fine, Potter. What did you want to talk about, exactly?” He sounded bored, but Harry knew better, so he pressed ahead.

“Well, first.” Harry paused to think about his next words for a minute before forging on. “First. I don’t like you sleeping with anyone else. I just...I don’t like it. I don’t like thinking about it. I don’t like _seeing_ it. You can’t _really_ tell me he was any better than me, can you?”

Draco rolled his eyes, but his ears turned red, so Harry figured he wasn’t as annoyed as he seemed. “No, Potter, of course he wasn’t. Infuriatingly, your cock has proven to be the only one that meets my rather exacting standards. Is that what you wanted to hear?”

It was, but also wasn’t, and Harry frowned, trying to figure out what it was he meant. “Yes…” he said slowly. “But, also. Draco. I don’t want...I don’t want to sleep with anybody else. I don’t want to _date_ anyone else. I don’t want _you_ dating anyone else, either. I want…” And here he had to stop, because he was veering far too close to something he was afraid to articulate.

Draco took pity on him, in his own prickly way; his voice was snappish, but his eyes were soft when he replied. “Fine. You’re so demanding I barely have time for anyone else anyway. But I’m warning you, Potter—even the _whisper_ of a rumour that you’re seeing someone else, and the whole deal’s off. I will not be expected to sit at home while you’re out with Merlin only knows who, doing Merlin only knows what.”

“No danger of that,” Harry said lightly, pushing the swelling feeling in his chest down, to be examined later. _Much_ later. “Alright. So, then...next. The...hmm. You seem to like it when I…” he trailed off, reaching over and stroking along Draco’s throat, pressing lightly on his Adam’s apple when he swallowed. “That. You like when I...I mean, when you can’t breathe as well. Is that…?” He stopped, because he didn’t really know what he’s asking, or how to ask about it.

Draco touched the back of Harry’s hands, dancing his fingers along his knuckles, then sighed and rolled onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. “I had _so_ hoped we wouldn’t have to talk about this,” he muttered, but continued at a louder volume before Harry could reply. “Yes, alright? I like being...I don’t know. Choked. Having my air cut off a little, right before I… It makes it more intense, _so_ much more intense, and...I trust you to know when to stop.”

He looked distinctly uncomfortable, and Harry took pity and dropped it, but his mind was whirling.

The next day, he Glamoured himself and slipped off to a Muggle sex shop he’d come to frequent since buying a flat in Soho, rifling through the literature until he found a book on BDSM that seemed promising.

What he read back at his flat appalled him.

With visions of spinal damage, _brain damage,_ Merlin, Draco’s gorgeous, ever-working mind being _damaged,_ and even _death_ dancing in his head, he Flooed over to Draco’s terrace home without even considering calling ahead. 

Draco was reading in his bedroom, sprawled on his stomach in the middle of a fleet of fluffy pillows, and he had _glasses_ on, but even that wasn’t enough to distract Harry (much) as he burst in, probably looking completely deranged based on how high Draco jumped.

“Hello, Harry…?” he said uncertainly, shutting the book and sitting up, hand inching towards his wand. “Did you need something?”

Harry brandished the book at him. “Do you have _any idea_ how dangerous it is?” he asked through gritted teeth. “How many people have you let do that to you? You could have _died,_ Draco. You could have _made me kill you_. Have you even looked into what this can do to you??” His chest was heaving, and his magic was sparking and snapping around the room, and he knew he was scaring Draco, but he felt totally out of control.

“Okay,” Draco said placatingly, sliding off the bed and approaching Harry slowly, like Harry was a wild animal. “Let’s just...calm down, Potter, before you bring down my entire house. Deep breaths, alright? In and out, there we go, easy does it now…”

Harry slowly brought himself under control, forcing his magic back into his core; he couldn’t help but snort at the irony of Draco’s instructions, though. _Deep breaths, indeed_.

Draco eyed him from a safe distance until he was convinced Harry was calmer, then drew Harry forward until they could both sit on his bed. Harry crossed his legs, beginning to feel a little abashed at how he’d reacted. He probably could have approached this better.

“May I?” Draco asked, indicating the book, and Harry silently handed it over, watching as Draco flipped through the pages for a few minutes. Finally, he closed it carefully and placed it to the side, then met Harry’s eyes firmly. “Okay. Let’s talk about this, then. First: I have never asked _anyone_ else to do that to me. Only you. You’re the only one I trust. However...I perhaps should have brought it up with you, first.” Draco cast his eyes down—he was embarrassed, Harry was shocked to realize. Draco was _never_ embarrassed about sex, about asking for what he wanted—it was part of what Harry had enjoyed about him so much at first, the way Draco just _said_ what he was looking for, what he wanted to Harry to do, all his fantasies that he teased Harry with (there was one involving Harry’s entire _hand_ that got Harry so worked up he came faster than he did even as a teenager; they were working up to that one). This was different, though. “I...know that there are risks. I mean, obviously, right? I just…” He sighed and slumped his shoulders, just a bit. “We don’t have to. If you don’t feel comfortable. It’s fine.”

And now it was Harry’s turn to hesitate. “Well…” he said, and Draco snapped his eyes up. “I mean. I’m not saying I didn’t _like_ it. It’s just. God, Draco, it could kill you, or give you permanent brain damage, and I just...I can’t. I won’t be responsible for that.”

Draco nodded slowly. “I completely understand. But...you’d be willing, if there was a way we could...oh, I don’t know, mitigate the risks? Maybe a signal, or a spell or something...you’d be willing to…” He shifted a bit, and Harry’s eyes were drawn to the growing bulge under his joggers.

“If we could make it as safe as possible, then yes, I’d be _willing to_.” Harry shifted closer to Draco, his own arousal growing as he saw just how affected Draco was. “I’ll look into it. Later. For now…” He drew Draco into a kiss, and soon he had Draco back on his stomach, screaming and pounding the mattress as Harry ate him until he came, then fingered him into _another_ orgasm, then fucked him so slowly that Draco was crying at the end.

It was a good night. But Harry couldn’t stop thinking about what Draco had suggested, and by the time they drifted off to sleep, he was already devising a plan.

Draco didn’t bring it up again, obviously waiting for Harry to do what he said and _look into it_. In between shags and quiet talks and the stunning realization that Harry was _falling in love_ with Draco Malfoy, Harry read every book he could find about kink, and consent, and making risky things safer, even if they’d never be completely _safe_.

He understood now, in the abstract at least, what cutting off Draco’s air supply did, why it made him feel so good. He took careful note of the diagrams and descriptions, reading about where to put his fingers and squeeze, and where to never _ever_ put pressure; finally, he felt confident enough to move past what the Muggle world could tell him.

Finally, almost three months after that conversation, Harry Flooed over to pick Draco up for dinner, a vial burning a hole in his pocket.

He was distracted during dinner, and Draco noticed, but filled the conversation gaps with mean little jabs at the other diners that had Harry doing his best to not laugh too loudly; it worked, and by the time they made their way back to Draco’s house, Draco’s arm comfortably tucked over Harry’s shoulders, Harry was completely relaxed, the tension and nerves from earlier in the evening gone.

Draco offered him a drink, but Harry shook his head; he hadn’t drank at dinner, either, and Draco had followed his lead, but Harry never said no to a nightcap, so Draco clearly knew something was up.

He looked about to speak, but Harry got there first. “Can we talk in your room?” he asked; Draco’s bedroom was soothing, and less formal, and part of him wanted to continue this conversation where it started.

Draco shrugged, but led them upstairs, and when they were both comfortable on the bed Harry pulled the small glass vial out of his pocket, placing it on the white bedspread between them. It was a rich, glowing ruby, and looked alarmingly like blood, but Harry knew that this was the solution to his worries.

Draco arched an eyebrow. “Are you going to tell me what’s going on? I’ve told you before, I won’t take mind-altering Potions during sex, not even with you…”

“No!” Harry hastened to reassure him. “No, that’s not this. This is… Well. I’ve been doing some reading, and there’s no way for us to _completely_ get rid of the risk, if we try the whole choking thing again, but...I’ve been playing with potions, and I tested it myself, and it _works_. This—” Harry picked up the vial and shook it in Draco’s face, too excited to stay calm any longer, “—if you drink this at least ten minutes, but no more than two hours, before we have sex, I can cut off your air, and it will keep oxygen flowing consistently to your brain the entire time, even if I do too much, or even just if your body isn’t responding to asphyxiation well that day, and if I _do_ press too hard, or something else starts going wrong, in addition to protecting your brain, it will shock my hand so I know to stop.”

Draco’s jaw dropped, and Harry preened just a bit. “Bloody hell, Potter,” Draco said. “And you did this all on your own? What’s in it?” He snatched the vial and examined it with interest.

“Gillyweed, for one. And a few other things—I’ve got the instructions at mine, you can come over later, I’m sure there are modifications to make it less of a pain in the arse to brew that you’ll come up with in a flash. And _yes_ I did it all on my own—I _am_ smart, you know.”

“Oh, trust me, Harry, I _know,_ ” Draco said lowly, and before Harry could reply he’d popped the vial open and downed the contents in one swallow, grimacing and following it with a Breath-Freshening charm almost immediately after. “Urgh. Yes, some improvements are still needed, clearly—but Merlin, Harry. You said it takes ten minutes to kick in?”

“Yes—” Harry started, but he was soon distracted with a lapful of Draco Malfoy, who somehow managed to get them both naked while Harry was fully occupied in kissing the life out of him.

Harry had no idea how much time had passed when Draco finally drew back, gasping; his lips were numb, and they both were covered in a sheen of sweat already, and Draco had been grinding down against his cock for so long that Harry was shocked he hadn’t come already.

“Fuck, Harry,” Draco sighed. “I can feel it, you know. It’s in my _blood_ and it has _your magic_ in it. Salazar, you’re already inside me. I need you to fuck me _right now_.”

He seized Harry’s hand and sucked two fingers into his mouth, getting them wet and then directing Harry back to his arse. Harry petted his fingers over Draco’s hole, then pushed both of them in abruptly. Draco howled—he loved the too-much-too-soon of Harry breaching him with no lead-up, and when it was just two fingers, the less lubricant the better.

Harry had four fingers twisting in him and was teasing at the rim of his hole with his thumb when Draco finally started begging.

“Please, please, please, Harry, I need you to fuck me, please, I need it, _I need it_ —” he gasped, and Harry shushed him, pulled his fingers out, and lined himself up.

He rubbed the head of his cock over Draco’s hole for a minute, transfixed, feeling Draco’s thighs tense and tremble where he held them up. Draco was already bent nearly in half, and his hands were fluttering down at Harry’s hips, which were just out of reach, and he was swearing up a storm, pleading for Harry to fuck him, already.

Finally, Harry couldn’t stand it any longer, and thrust into Draco _hard,_ shoving him a few inches up the bedspread. Draco howled and thrashed his head back and forth.

Planting his hands on either side of Draco’s head, Harry started fucking him, long, hard thrusts that brushed over Draco’s prostate every single time. He dropped his head to watch Draco’s cock, which was rubbing against Harry’s stomach and leaking precome everywhere.

Growling, Harry put his face very close to Draco’s. “Do you want it?” he asked quietly, biting hard on Draco’s jawline. “Tell me, Draco. Do. You. Want. It?” He punctuated his words with punishingly hard thrusts.

“Yes, god, please Harry,” Draco sobbed, staring up at him.

Harry carefully curled his hand around Draco’s neck, and his hand squeezing over Draco’s delicate throat—Merlin, he’d never seen anything like it.

Draco’s eyes were closed in bliss, but as Harry squeezed tighter and tighter, he opened them again, and his pupils were totally blown. As the pressure on his carotid increased, his eyelids began fluttering, and Harry watched, entranced, as he gasped and sputtered and tried to take in air but _couldn’t,_ and Harry thought he could pinpoint the exact moment Draco reached his peak, because his eyes rolled back in his head, and Harry let go, and Draco gasped in a breath and came all over their stomachs with a scream.

Harry only lasted a few more thrusts; the image of Draco utterly at his mercy, and the way he was now lying docile under Harry, blinking up serenely as Harry fucked into him, neck covered in red fingerprints, was more than he could take, and he came with a grunt, grinding against Draco’s arse until well after his orgasm had finished shaking through him, determined to mark Draco on the inside with his come just as thoroughly as he’d marked his neck on the outside.

Finally, he pulled out with a groan. On shaking legs, he wandered to the bathroom for a flannel, then cleaned both of them up and got back into the bed, wrenching the duvet over them.

Draco was still lying limp, breathing shallowly, but Harry wasn’t worried—he hadn’t even felt a tingle from the potion, and anyway, this was Draco at his absolute most blissed-out—Harry had only seen him like this a few times, but he knew what he was looking at, and he couldn’t help but feel smug.

He gathered Draco in his arms, kissing all over his face until Draco blinked and weakly pawed at him as he slowly came back to himself.

“ _Fuck,_ ” Draco said with feeling, once he’d wrestled Harry off him and they were lying on their sides, legs tangled.

“Yeah,” Harry agreed with a dreamy sigh, skating his hand along Draco’s side. “Did you like it?”

Draco smiled at him, an open, honest thing that sent Harry’s heart into overdrive. “I think it’s safe to say I did,” he said, then yawned. “I don’t think we can do that too often, though. I feel utterly useless. I have no idea how I’m going to function tomorrow. Let’s save that for special occasions.” He snuggled closer, then closed his eyes.

Harry felt like his heart might break, or explode, or something else equally dramatic and gory, such was the intensity of the feelings rocketing through him. He kissed Draco’s nose once more before settling in for sleep himself.

**Author's Note:**

> the tumblr link for this fic is [here](https://bonesliketambourines.tumblr.com/post/632457140231159810/kinktober-day-19-in-a-bind).
> 
> do NOT call me out on using the PWP tag this is the closest i think i'm ever gonna get 😂


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